“Turn me. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. At the same time she was wildly exultant at the resolution she had taken, the end she had made to her blunder. "Dear me!" she added, as she pledged the amorous woollen-draper, "what a beautiful ring that is. But, if you've a spark of love for me, don't meddle with anything in that house. ’ ‘Oui, mais—safe.
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